This piece is a response to the Ragtag Daily Prompt: Glabrous — a word that suggests smoothness, bareness, the clean surface left after something has shed or been pared down. It’s the perfect word for the hours leading into the fall equinox.
Photo by Janusz Walczak on Unsplash
Where The Season Smooths
Morning carried a strange stillness, the kind that feels shaved down to essentials. The sky wore its muted pewter, and the trees trembled with early brown/gold, as if they sensed the hinge of the season approaching. I moved through the day with that hum of anticipation — not loud, not cosmic, but intimate. A quiet excitement that makes you notice the lengthening shadows and the surprisingly slight coolness that greets you at the door.
Then the equinox arrives. No fireworks, no grand announcement. Just a subtle tipping, a settling in the body. A glabrous clarity — smooth, bare, honest — that feels like both an ending and a beginning.
Afterward comes the afterglow: a soft melancholy braided with renewal. Summer exhales. Autumn steps forward. And you carry that shift with you into the evening, knowing the world has turned, and you’ve turned with it.
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